Why Did It Ever Matter?
by DeepSixing
Summary: Sirius is upset, and James doesn't understand why. Short OneShot. No Slash.


**A/N: This was just something that came up off the top of my head. Really short, but to the point. R&R!**

**Why Did It Ever Matter?**

"Hey, what's wrong, Padfoot?" James fell casually into one of the squishy red armchairs by the fire. He raised his hand and winked at a pretty girl walking by.

"What? Oh. Nothing." Sirius had been slouched in the other armchair, gazing intently into the fireplace. He straightened himself in the chair, waking from his deep thought.

James looked at him, tilting his head. Sirius's eyes were glazed, and they glittered slightly in the firelight.

"You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah," Sirius was getting agitated now. "I'm fine, Prongs."

They sat in silence for a moment. A few more girls walked by, heading for their dorm. James and Sirius both sat up. James ruffled his hair and flashed them a winning smile. Sirius leaned back, put his hand behind his head, and gave them a sexy nod. The girls squealed and rushed upstairs.

The two boys fell back into their chairs. James was smiling. It still got to him—every time—how he could win every girl, and control every guy in this school. He turned to Sirius, expecting his usual returned grin.

Sirius was once again gazing into the fire. His eyebrows furrowed. He began to breathe more heavily, until he growled in anger and threw himself out of the chair. James jumped up, grabbing Sirius by the arm.

"Let go of me!" Sirius yelled. He shook his arm, trying to wretch it out of James's grasp. James held on tight, yanking him back.

"Listen—Sirius!—_Listen!_" The two stopped. "I'm your best friend—Look at me!—I'm your best friend! You know me. You can tell me what's wrong." Sirius's upper lip curled and he turned away from him in disgust. James still held tight to his arm.

"Don't try and get mushy on me Prongs. Yeah, you're my best mate. So what?"

"So what is effing wrong with you?" James pushed away Sirius's arm.

Sirius sulked. "Nothing."

"Are you mental?" James laughed.

Sirius exploded.

"What is effing wrong with me? You really want to know? My whole life, James!" He threw him arms into the air, and stalked around the room. "I have been disowned by my family—"

"Yeah, but you've got my family, Padfoot. Besides, you hate your family."

"Do I?" Sirius and James locked eyes. James was taken aback.

"What do you mean? They're all Death Eaters. They hate anyone who even talks to non-purebloods. I mean, that's why they hate you!"

Sirius shook his head, laughing. "You don't get it. You're James—the pampered prince! Never had to do a goddamn thing himself—"

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" James shouted, stiffening.

"You could never know what it's like to be hated by the people who are supposed to love you. To be shunned by your own family. My brother, my cousins—they all spit on the ground when I walk by. You could never know how that feels." Sirius shook his head and turned away.

James stared at his back. "You always seemed to just laugh it off. I never thought you actually cared what they did."

Sirius turned around, laughing. "Never cared? Prongs, not a day goes by that I don't wish I could have a real family. That I could have parents that loved me. A brother that looked up to me." His voice cracked, and he bit his knuckles to prevent tears before continuing. "Cousins that I could hang out with. Grandparents that spoiled me. Relatives who were happy to see me. Someone to tell me—tell me that they were proud."

James looked down. For a moment they were silent. When James looked up, his eyes were glazed. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Sirius stared back at him. "Why did it ever matter?"

Two girls walked by. James just stared, giving a weak smile, afraid his voice would fail him.

The girls paused, eyeing Sirius. He raised his eyebrows and jumped between them, linking their arms into his. He grinned as one of the girls whispered into his ear.

James watched them pass, Sirius's bark-like laugh echoing down the halls as the portrait-hole door slammed behind him.


End file.
